


whispering 'i love you's

by flirtingwithtrackers



Series: tumblr drabbles [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtingwithtrackers/pseuds/flirtingwithtrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: 'clarke’s bothered /more like aroused/ by bellamy’s voice on different occasions'</p>
<p>or, the one where clarke really loves bellamy's voice</p>
            </blockquote>





	whispering 'i love you's

**Author's Note:**

> for [bell-clarke](http://bell-clarke.tumblr.com) based on [this post](http://bell-clarke.tumblr.com/post/123842265929/i-totally-have-this-thing-where-you-wouldnt-need) :))
> 
> hope you guys like it

Clarke has always loved Bellamy’s voice, a deep vibrato that shakes her to her core. Even when they didn’t get along and spent most of their time arguing, she always pushed and pushed until his voice became an angry growl, a sound that spurred her annoyance and sparked a low, burning desire that simmered underneath her heated words. (Which is probably what led to their first kiss—their breathing harsh with agitation, their faces just a little _too_ close as they argued over god knows what, the rumble of _goddammit, Clarke_ just audible before Clarke couldn’t take it anymore and pressed her lips against his roughly.)

And now that they’re together, his voice affects her even more, in ways that both have arousal pooling in between her thighs _and_ her heart blooming with a fondness that threatens to swallow her whole. Clarke finds herself perfectly content to sit in the living room, listening easily to his smooth voice as he reads his manuscripts aloud at the other end of the couch. She’s completely endeared by the way he sings in the shower, however badly. And she loves to hear his voice after a long day at work, curled up into his arms as he tells her about his day, his big hands twirled into her hair or smoothing up and down her arms. She cherishes every whispered _I love you_ , trying to memorize the adoration in this voice.

And when he talks in bed, his deep voice making her thighs clench, she never stands a chance. She thinks he must know what it does to her. With the way his voice rumbles in her chest when he sits next to her at a bar, her back practically pressed to his chest as he whispers dirty things in her ear. Or how his voice dropped even lower the first time he told her what to do, putting her on her hands and knees, telling her not to move even as his large hand slapped her bare ass, leaving red marks in its wake. How his voice, rough with sleep, grates against the shell of her ear in the morning as his hand caresses down her sides.

He must know. He _has_ to.

+++

He called her late that night, a few hours after she went to bed following a 16-hour shift. She woke with a groan as she answered her phone, immediately hating whoever was calling her. She reluctantly got up, throwing on a pair of ratty flip flops and the robe she keeps hanging by the bathroom door before getting in her car. He was waiting outside the bar when she pulled up, something both of them were extremely thankful for. They were both quiet as he got in, trying not to make too much noise as he stumbled into the front seat. They’re halfway home when Clarke breaks the silence.

“So how does ‘a few beers with Miller’ turn into a tequila shot contest with Raven?” She asks in a way that makes Bellamy think he shouldn’t answer.

He looks over at her, eyes wide and glassy. Her hair’s a mess of a braid over her shoulder and her robe is falling off her shoulder, showing the thin pink strap of her tank top. She sneaks a look over at him, a look that has him scrambling for words that will take scowl off her face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you got off so late,” he says slowly, trying to articulate. “I would have just called a cab if I had known.” His voice is slow and deep, and Clarke loves the sound even though all she wants to do is be angry with him. She doesn’t respond, but Bellamy sees the tight line of her lips relax and he lets himself slump against his seat.

Clarke doesn’t wait for him when they get back to their apartment, leaving the front door cracked as she walks back to the bedroom, intent on falling back asleep quickly. She’s facing the bed and pulling off her robe when she feels his fingertips graze her sides. She sighs, lets her eyes fall close as Bellamy presses against her back, his lips whispering into the curve of her shoulder. His arms wrap around her, trapping her robe in between them so it’s caught at her elbows.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he slurs into her skin. She sighs—he must know. His voice is gravelly, a rough wisp of tequila and remorse. He presses his face into her shoulder and she feels the ends of his curls brush against her arm. She stands in his embrace for a few moments, letting him murmur apologizes in between soft kisses to the nape of her neck. “I’ll make it up to you." 

She sighs again in exasperation. “Take off your pants and cuddle with me before I change my mind and make you sleep it off on the couch,” she says, a small smile on her face that she hopes he can’t see. He quickly does as he’s told, climbing into bed and waiting for her to join him, a sleepy smile on his face. 

He sighs contentedly when she snuggles into his side, whispering _I love you_ into her hair before falling asleep. He totally knows.

**Author's Note:**

> come cry with me on [tumblr](http://keywordlydia.tumblr.com) :))


End file.
